Take Another Look

{May 15, 2010}   focus

other options.

fuck this one true love crap. i’m getting tired of it.

(i hope. )

it’s not the fucking movies. and why does my memory seem to conveniently forget all the slights i felt?

brenden says love is a delusion two people choose to continue. he said it in a less clinical way, okay?

confused. only way back is through focus.

must find my focus again.

what is hard is that i cant handle pressure very well. on the tiniest things. even when i want to.  i think i mean i lose my desire in the pressure. it’s like a trigger goes off in my brain. suddenly the perfect time turns into a whirl. the past sits there like a smug prick, laughing at me. making me flip. making me confused.  once i was a girl and i couldnt set boundaries. Then, I didnt want to set boundaries. And then I set a boundary and learned it had emotional consequences. my friends didnt go home happy. i didnt let them sleep off their drinks, i didn’t let them do this, i didn’t do this.. i was no fucking fun! It’s easier to set boundaries when you don’t care. That is for sure. It’s much harder when everything seems to turn in on itself.

brendon said that sex is different for addicts. he says that addicts either make it out to be precious, or are completely cynical and detached about it.

maybe im not enough of an addict type.

ps. honesty can always be bargained with.

what is my moral center????? is it something you can temporarily misplace? is it something you can dance around, or trick? Is it something you don’t want to touch because once you touch it you can never go back? Is it too late?

I used to believe fate was made. Need to have the faith that fate is still there guiding actions. Can’t make up my own fate. I’ve tried, lol.


{April 10, 2010}   Lights On

Yeah. Ignore the last thing I posted. See how bipolar I get? Exhibit A. I think I had a b12 deficiency. I’m over it now. Anyone or anything that was bothering me, la, la, la. However, I refuse to delete those really embarrassing passages (Exhibit B) where I make an idiot over myself. Why, I don’t know. I am anti-deleting any moment. I must hold onto them all, even if I drop certain memories in the grocery aisles. Do I write that stuff to embarrass myself, or to let somebody know how much I care, or simply to get the emotion out of me because I don’t know how to contain emotion?

I know that I woke up with a gasp, and that I’d written in the middle of the night.  That pain. I would say, that pain again, but each pain is slightly different. I tried to escape by watching the the last 8 episodes of season 7, 24, but it felt ruined because I know how it ends because I remembered that I saw the ending with the person who I mentioned  (exhibit B) in conjunction with the hole in my chest.

(Oh how original- roll of eyes, that must have come from reading  new moon which I related to too much.) Part of the pain is my determination to never give up on the idea that a one true love was real. So, in order for it to be real, I can’t just “get over it.”

Then, there are the actual emotional components, which I do not think can be faked. I called M. Parker up and was grrly and sniffy. As I silently cried for an hour, Parker was nice for Parker, as I was especially careful not to incite any of his antigens, since he turns to cancer, eating you up inside if you do anything that he considers brusque. He did snidely repeat a few times that he didn’t work for me. (I have noticed that when people are cruel, they say it is for your own good. They always have to have a cause, even if their life is empty.)

I read the first duino elegy by Rilke. Shame on Parker for not owning this, I thought, for not loving this, and for not having this particular translator, either- (go with everything when you put somebody on murder charges).

“Dennis would have it, and he loved to read, and he always read to me; in fact, he liked reading more than he liked it when I read,” I told Parker. I left out my fuck yous, churned my anger into confusion, and was matter of fact with Parker. I concentrated on the connection I have with Parker instead of grieving for outside connections I miss. He didn’t like the elegy. I asked how he could not like it. He had no answer. Still, Rilke’s elegies are prayer to me, so I think they calmed me down a bit, but not all the way, because I was still angry at myself became I compared how romantic and mysterious I found the words when I read this elegy in the past. I could re-discover it no matter how many times I saw the words; I got ten more things out of the poem and the references; those subtle shimmering connections. Now I was way too concrete, I told Parker. Now I probably don’t see anything when I read. Now I read the thing itself and I do not see a billion associations illuminating my path like a lantern. That is how I saw the words in high school.

“I need to see things the way I saw them in high school,” I told Parker. Parker told me that making connections was the key to meaning. He used a word that wasn’t meaning, but I didn’t like the word he used. His word was vague and bland. So here, I use the word meaning, even though he used a word like interpretation, even though I prefer to quote people verbatim.

Part of our discussion was that people on certain chemicals don’t get real R.E.M. sleep. They get the other kind, which I call “twilight state” which has a function to it, but new studies indicate that we need two kinds of sleep. My hypothesis, formed over time from experience, science articles, observation, and questioning, is that people on certain pharmaceuticals miss the most important kind of sleep- psychotically vivid dreams, accompanied by the thrashing, eye-moving, kicking kind of sleep.

I eventually got off the phone and (a miracle due to vitamin b12) I fell asleep. In the morning I felt okay again. I called Parker at 8:30 in the morning.

“hello,” he said in a whisper of a voice, the voice of a robot combined with a six year old boy.


“For what.”

He had to know, even though I had probably woken him up for the 10th time that week. He never complains or mentions if I wake him up. It is considered a normal way of communication.

“Thanks for making me feel better,”I said,

(he was thinking “people dont work for you” just because he likes to repeat things without explaining them to make a point but he didn’t say it)

I didn’t elaborate. Hung up phone. Mercury came over, I went back to sleep. A f-cking miracle due to taking 15,000 times the daily dose, then again, my mom should have told me about the b12 connection sooner, I was showing all the signs of a b12 deficiency, but she didn’t know the details.

Okay, I feel sane, I will go have goals again and want to live again.

The only time I successfully got my feelings down about him was down here…(link) and there are plenty of typos. Whatever. This isn’t like my old blog where i corrected things and tried to make it about good writing. This is just therapy. Or maybe water-boarding


I wanted company tonight while I cleaned my apartment. My heart kept racing from too much coffee this afternoon. My morning hadn’t gone as planned. But I went to lunch with a physicist who considered it a date. I didn’t feel so much of a connection because I feel like I can’t connect to anybody. But then, later, this evening. Jason (an ex, and a friend) calls. Guilt covers me from head to toe. He has tried continually to stop by my place and be my friend, and for a year I have flaked out 99 out of 100 times. He doesn’t overdo it. Sometimes it felt that way, but that was my irrationality, not him calling too much, just my guilt talking. Anyway, I told him things I don’t tell most people. I told him the problem with the book I was sending out compared to the person who reads it first and I talked to him about ethical fears. He told me to be less self-conscientious. He kept trying to touch me and I ended up on the phone with Michael having a great conversation. I looked at Jason and asked Michael why it wasn’t a good idea for you to be with somebody you had dated before. Michael gave a brilliant answer about two people occupying a space and time and how you can’t repeat that space and time. I repeated his answer to Jason. But before I could repeat it, he said he was going to go. So I got off the phone with Michael. He had been here for about two hours at this point. I said “why are you going?” I had said things like “I just want to be friends.” Anyway, I told him I still wanted him to keep me company. He showed how to really make a bed with the corners sharp. Mostly, he is a quiet but keen person and I babble on in his presence because he doesn’t interact that much conversationally. But he is supportive and is the one person I know who has been a homeless teenager,  lived in a millionaire home, (but turned down the girls offer to stay there), has been kissed by Jenny McCarthy, has had a younger sister die tragically, and has gotten off methadone and xanax. The last two parts are huge. I have kept my distance from him. But still, I am not afraid to let him see me when I am a mess. Mostly that is the reason I have kept distance from me and him. He buzzes my door and I don’t want him to see my problems. I can’t hide them from him and he can’t make me escape from them, so I’d hide behind the door when he buzzed. He started massaging my hip, (he has a degree in massage) and my feet began to tingle. I asked him why it was doing that, and he explained about the tension in the hip bone. From there it progressed. He wanted to know why I was so shy. The transformation was so extreme if he didn’t know me better, the way he does, he would have freaked out. I would only let him do certain things. But I felt a small part of me open up. But it is the first time really being with somebody so different, and the comparisons to Downey were so huge. Downey makes me just want to do anything to please him, while Jason wants to please me. I don’t know why Downey would turn me on so much when all he would do there is act like he didn’t want me. Jason turns me off by telling me all the things he wants to do, pushing too hard, trying too much, always pushing too far so I have to pull back. But something was different this time. I didn’t let it progress to sex but I didn’t pull so damn hard. I let him touch me and I gently touched him back. He held me ways Downey would never hold me. That is neither bad nor good, but what it is. The most important part was when he wrapped me up and I began to flow tears emptily on his white shirt. He rocked me back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He didn’t understand why, when he was touching my pussy, and he said “he could tell I wanted to DO it” I wouldn’t let him get anywhere. At one point, he asked what was wrong, and he commented again on how I become SO shy, and I said I became uncommunicative. he said it was both. But after he asked what was wrong he also included “you can’t lie.” And I burst out with “I was just really hurt by that guy okay? It’s nothing!!!!” And he said “Oh” and held me to his body over and over again, caressing my hair, massaging me, pressing his body against me. When he kissed me I managed not to compare it to Downey. Much. Not very much. I could tell we were expressing different things. The only thing that I did to him that I used to do with Downey is write letters on him. With Downey, he was so scared of the words “I love you” that I would write them gently on his skin, and not care if he knew what I wrote or not. This was very different. Jason has word tattoes all over his body. it was important he know exactly what I wrote. I wrote the word “WHY”. Then I did it again. Then I did it again with a question mark. Finally, I did it one more time, with my fingers pressing hard into his back, punctuating every letter. He responded somehow with his body, touching me in some way. I knew not to ask “you don’t hook up with girls like this all the time do you?” I don’t think he does that. I felt a little bad that I don’t want to jump his bones the way I do with Downey. I loved the time with Jason,but I still felt I wasn’t ready to have sex with him. On the other hand, I could have slept in his arms. I have slept in his arms before. The part about being shy- I wasn’t so shy when I dated him before. I would become inarticulate and push him away, but I wasn’t silent, and refusing to look at him in the eyes. The lack of eye contact meant something. It meant I was only going where he and I could go. And so when I did meet his eyes for a moment, it had a context. I don’t understand why Jason doesn’t make me want to have sex without foreplay, why I have so much foreplay with Jason but don’t want to go all the way. While with Downey, there were times when I felt so deprived that I would have felt happy if I had just been able to give him a blow job and he touched my hair. TOUCHED. Is it because Jason doesn’t stand there and act like he isn’t attracted to me? Is it because Downey really had issues with being touched, and I always want what I can’t have? I guess this proves that playing hard to get is awful but that people who do it end up with lovers who want to be their slaves. I don’t know. I am confused. I felt precious and loved being with Jason. It’s when I think about Downey (and I can’t ban him from all thoughts, even though I had forgotten our sex life and didn’t want sex anymore until Jason pushed the issue to the forefront.) Maybe if I tell Jason all the things I want him to do. But all this Dan Savage, talk about it and it makes it better ruins the mystery and doesn’t necessarily make sex better. But I thought it would work with Downey. Now I feel like such a hypocrite. I am one person with one person, and a very different with another. With Downey I am somebody who always initiates with wild abandon and when it doesn’t happen feels let down and angry; and with jason i feel like a teenager who loves the time spent together and can trust him but is afraid to lose their virginity and has to keep pulling back. Here is a film clip: Jason, who rocks me back and forth and holds me until I subside and calm down, and Downey, who sits there stonily, ignoring me, ignoring me, ignoring me, and if I get upset or sick or anything at all (one time I was loudly sobbing and he asked me if I had allergy problems when at the time we were 8 months into the relationship and discussing something incredibly intimate that led to me dumping him). A part of me feels like Downey and I had some kind of weird gay romance and he just can’t come out so he forced me to dump him by making is unbearable- oh trust me I put up with unbearable so unbearable isn’t the word… impossible, I guess, he made it impossible… I couldn’t even get a hold of my so-called boyfriend and yet we were supposedly together, we weren’t physical for a month, and yes, I had a problem with that. On the other hand, if I were with another guy and we didn’t have sex for a month, I don’t see how it would be such a big deal. But it was with HIM. I hate these contradictions because I don’t understand them and can never get the answers. Even if they are in science.. or something else. Finding Downey was like coming out. it is another metaphor to add to my grave of metaphors. Whatever the case, Jason was beautiful. Jason was worth the moments. And when he stood up and kissed me, I could feel myself getting wet. Maybe I just need to work on some things, (although sex should not be WORK) and I will want to “jump his bones.” I just DONT understand how it could be the exact opposite with Downey… and how I could be the one, as always, pushing away. I’m always pushing away except in extreme exceptions… I don’t know how Downey got (gets?) me to come to him in every way when with every other person I push and pull. Downey just makes me push… Jason makes me do mostly pulling. Maybe I found two very opposite examples I don’t understand. The awful thing was- but my wounds are too fresh to be saying this- I liked loving better than feeling like the recipient. The only person I have had a healthy balance of these things is B. My heart gets fast. i want to come to him. but he also comes to me. They both turn me on. Life is SO strange…..

et cetera